


Day 6 - Wearing eachothers’ clothes

by elessar_undomiel



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge - Johnlock [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, Flashback, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Sherlock, Jawn, John Plays Rugby, John fixes everything, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Red Pants, Sherlock panicks, Smut, Tea, Teenlock, Uni!lock, Unilock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elessar_undomiel/pseuds/elessar_undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock didn’t dare to speak, as if any noise could pop the happy bubble that surrounded them; he just turned on his side, wrapped his arms around John and fell asleep, lulled by the beat of John’s heart agains his own chest."</p><p>In which Sherlock is the sweet, insecure cutiepie he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 6 - Wearing eachothers’ clothes

Sherlock woke up at 11am. He tried to remember why he hadn’t set an alarm: it was Saturday, so he didn’t have lessons, but he had an experiment underway. And most of all, why hadn’t he wakened by himself? Turning on his back he felt a light complaint right *there* and suddenly his mind was overwhelmed by the memories of the previous night. Memories of hands, of John’s hands, roaming all over his body, of his lips on Sherlock’s and then down on his neck and then downwards and downwards, and then his mouth was all around him, and it was hot and wet and oh-so-damn-perfect… and Sherlock had lost it, Sherlock was trembling and shivering and arching his back, and fisting John’s hair and pushing deeper in his mouth, and dear God he was fucking that perfect mouth, that mouth he had never either hoped to be allowed to kiss, and John was looking at him through his lashes like a predator looks at its prey, and Sherlock was so close, so close, and he heard his own moans and cries as if they were somebody else’s… And then John withdrew and Sherlock thought he was going to die because he needed him, he fucking needed him… And then John’s lips were on his own and Sherlock could taste himself and it was so fucking oddly arousing… And then a finger was breaching him, and when had John even picked the lube?, and it hurt a bit but it also felt so good, and then they were two, and three, and John kept on hitting that spot and it was perfect… No, it wasn’t perfect, not yet… It got perfect when John finally pushed inside him, and they were one, and Sherlock’s legs were around John’s waist, and John was panting against his neck, biting him and kissing him, and that was beyond perfection, and then everything got white and the pleasure was overwhelming, and he was coming between their sweaty bodies, and he heard John screaming his name, and he felt John filling him and everything was too much.

When he got a grip John was curled up at his side, nose buried in his neck. Sherlock didn’t dare to speak, as if any noise could pop the happy bubble that surrounded them; he just turned on his side, wrapped his arms around John and fell asleep, lulled by the beat of John’s heart agains his own chest.

* * *

But the bed was desperately empty and cold now. John had gone away, John had left him… And how could he blame him? What did he expect? John was the captain of the rugby team and he was just the damn freak. And John was kind, he was so gentle that he had accepted to be his friend, but how could Sherlock aspire to something more? Last night was most probably a test, John surely wanted to check his bisexuality or something like that… or maybe he pitied the lonely boy and had decided to let him experience something that would never happen otherwise because who in the world could ever love him?

Sherlock saw John’s rugby hoodie and couldn’t help but grabbing it and holding it tight, as a child would hug a stuffed animal. He was almost crying, tears gathered in his eyes, irregular breath.

Then a pair of naked, toned legs entered his visual field, and Sherlock raised his gaze. John was standing on the doorway, eyes wide open, worried. He was wearing a pair of red pants and Sherlock’s black t-shirt, and he was holding two steaming cups of tea. He recollected himself from the sight of a desperate Sherlock, put the cups on the night table and sat on the bed, next to Sherlock, who was now quite embarrassed for having been found in such a state “Sherlock… Jesus, Sherlock, what’s happened? Are you ok? Did you… Did I hurt you? Do you… Don’t you…” He stumbled, couldn’t complete the questions, but there was no pity in his eyes, just concern and worry and… fondness? Could it ever be something more?

“Jawn… I… I thought… I thought you had gone… I thought you didn’t want…” John didn’t let him finish, just bent down next to him and held him tight, shutting him up with a sweet kiss. “Idiot. Do you really think I could ever leave you?? God, Sherlock, do you think I’m so stupid, do you think I’d give up on the fucking best thing that’s ever happened to me? Weren’t you supposed to be  genius?” He was smiling so sweetly: Sherlock didn’t know that anyone could smile so sweetly, let alone to him, yet John was.

“Sherlock… I love you, you know? I swear I will never ever leave you, ok?” Sherlock muttered something, his words muffled by John’s hoodie. “What was that?” John laughed, moving the cloth away from Sherlock’s mouth, and the younger boy, the freak, the genius, the sociopath, stared into his eyes, smiled and whispered: “I love you too.”

Then he wrapped his arms around John’s waist and pulled him closer. They stayed quiet for a while, then they moved apart and sat up “You know what?” John smirked “You can keep the hoodie… I’d love to see you wearing something of mine! And I think I’m going to keep this!” He added, pointing the t-shirt out. Sherlock’s gaze was drawn to John’s muscles wrapped in the tight shirt, then his gaze shifted southwards and he noticed that the pants were rather intriguing.

“You know what?” Sherlock said, his voice lower, almost hoarse, a mischievous grin on his face “You can keep that if you want” He pushed John to the mattress and slid his hands under the tee, lifting it up ever so slowly and kissing every inch of exposed skin. Then he added, alternating kisses, words, licks and bites: “ _but… not… right… now_ ”

The tea had got completely cold by the time they remembered it, but they surely didn’t need a hot drink anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first smut ever, hope you like it! :)  
> It wasn't even supposed to be smut, actually, but... this sort of happened! ^^


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